Biography Lukonin

Sleep, people, rest. Are you tired. Take a break from love and Treak. The Milky Way is dotted with star bushes, your windows bloom like flowers. Children were sleeping, apples were spectacular in the garden. We remember, we remember this again. In Stalingrad, the Volga Silent Salted and Bayukal with a cool of the replacement. A border infantry near Brest was waiting with a dismissal in the pocket of the day.

Salted sailors. Gastello slept in silence. Pavlov went fishing for a short -lived path. In Stalingrad, my mother wrote a letter to me and called me home, beckoned to the Volga. Talalikhin walked along Tversky that night, at the Nikitsky said goodbye - there was not enough night - with the one that I could not help on the day when she sobbed on the street. We recall this night and at this hour an explosion that the Sun extinguished in a pitch rumble, through the bandages inept oo -octuated, the blood of the people piled in that June.

Step by step, we remember, day after day, an explosion behind an explosion, death after death, pain for pain, year after year, fallen in fire, year after year, bleeding. We recall the celebration of how they went and went and Berlin opened with fire from a turn, and saw the expanses of the whole earth, passing through the Brandenburg gates. The animals themselves set fire to their Reichstag, the last outline of the streets confused, but Yegorov and Cantaria were hoisted on a staggering dome.

We recall all the heroes of the names, we call all the victories by name. The eternal Kremlin wall remembers how the fascist banners fell to her. We would only recall this May, but June is still in front of our eyes, if they begin to raise the sting and prophes off in voices. We do not just remember the day of the war, we do not remember for tears and memoirs.

People of the world should remember him. We remind all the Earth about this. In the battle for the village of Chernushki, the Pskov vest, closed his body to the embrasure of the enemy bunker in order to ensure the success of his unit. Gastello Nikolai Frantsevich - pilot; During the battles in Belarus, his plane was shot down, but the crew did not leave the burning car and directed it into the thick of fascist tanks and cars.

Posthumously awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union. Pavlov Yakov Fedotovich genus. He made the first night ram in the history of the war and shot down a fascist bomber. Tverskaya - Boulevard in Moscow, part of the Boulevard Ring between the area of ​​the Nikitsky Gate and Pushkinskaya Square. Brandenburg gates - a monumental architectural monument in the style of classicism, built in Berlin in the GG.

Decorated the twelve doric columns and quadriga of the goddess of the world. The originally conceived as the “gates of the world” were later used as a triumphal gate to demonstrate the power of the fascist empire. The animals themselves set fire to their Reichstag. In February, the accused in Leipzig was forced to justify in February in a staged trial in Leipzig.

Egorov Mikhail Alekseevich and Cantaria Meliton Varlamovich - Soviet sergeants who hoisted the Red Banner of Victory over the Reichstag on April 30. This is what is called love? So is it called? So written? Is this? .. You will throw heavy hands to the head of the head, the night will not answer. The rain is jambing about tin. There will be winter, blizzards, and dew on herbs, and stars, and joy will be.

The breaks will come, and only there will be neither guilty, nor the right, nor knowledgeable, nor wise, nor treating here. Never, ask anyone about it - neither a friend, nor wind, nor the smartest night. Jealen or suffer some and do not believe the poets, poets cannot help themselves. Take all joy to yourself, do not give flour, it only open it together, if you love. Memories of love are not suitable for Nauku, everything is wrong.

Everything in a new way, again, not again, but again. You cannot explain what it is with me or with you. One among the field, under the shower, and there is a thunderstorm. It is impossible to do this in any way by other people's words, the words do not come - be silent in the eyes. Silence so that the eyelashes hurt the eyelashes, so that the heart will hear the other heart in the thunder.

Love each other. Do not think - it is all or dream of, love each other, do not be afraid, do not rummage in the volumes. Neither the address is nor the paragraph, nor GOST, it will be relentless, painful, as with me. This is not written, it is not heard. Breathing simply. So poetry - breathes the life of itself. All in white. The walls smell of a damp chalk. Swimming us tightly in the blankets and teasing us on how small we, bending down, the sister drove water on the floor.

And we looked at the floors. And Sineva, water, floors fell into our eyes ... The head was spinning. Words circled: “Friend, what is now? Here, I don’t see twenty days ... ”The floor is blue in the water, and the air smoke. They were fed from the spoons. And I was already sitting with my back against the wall, and the drops on the blanket were sprouted. The tanker is envied by a blinded man and talks about how he does not see twenty days.

And - about her, about her, about her ... - But sister, you are letters to her! Do not think about her ... - So you would have taken! I will teach you, recalling ... - I took the pen. And he said: - “Herage! He: - “Think that you are killed ...” - “I live,” I wrote. He sang and cried, held a letter by the enlightened eyes. Now the whole chamber asked me: - Write! My refusal could offend them.

Where is it all? No sound. Not a soul. Friends, where are you? .. Lights at the pier. Here my neighbor is on duty at the helm.I will overcome it in my memory first. My friends leads the earth to me. One motor starts at the outpost, the other in the morning lets the millstone. And I have no right to be silent. The words entrusted to me are burning.

The through the line flies. You only love life! The Stalingrad Theater here Lions stood at the porch of about a hundred years without changes, when suddenly a brick pollen, broken down by the rain of lead, overturned at the walls. There was a battle in the lobby of the theater. The left lion fell, and the right flashed the doors of the high pharynx. The German beat and listened to a long ringing in the lodges; Seeing the ice flooring, he remained lying.

On the stage - for the grates, from the stage - in the first row, aiming from the hand, our detachment moved. The foreman fell to the suffering booth and beat into darkness. And the story itself seduced him. With fire, supporting us, clutching the pain in his side, he played a great role without a pose and without embellishment.